


A Comedy of Errors

by widowhunt



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Identity Reveal, Stream of Consciousness, accidental reveal, adrien might know but he might not who knows, marinette is a mess as usual, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 16:22:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18673243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/widowhunt/pseuds/widowhunt
Summary: And, really, she’s trapped there until he leaves, holding his jacket open for Plagg to tuck himself away and emerging into the world as if he were an average Parisian. Which he’s not, because his face is plastered in every boutique modelling the newest seasonal fashions. Or the latest cologne. But if he wasn’t so exceptional in his day-to-day life, he— her partner, her hero, her chaton—could have succeeded in blending into the world so seamlessly.She wonders if this is what being hit over the head with a bat is like, before remembering that oh, disgruntled American baseball player was last week’s akuma, and deciding that yes— yes, it is.Her world vaguely acknowledges Tikki floating by her cheek holding a broken off piece of chocolate chip cookie, saying her name in her high-pitched voice, and she just kind of...Now, see, this is where it gets strange.





	A Comedy of Errors

It doesn’t really register, at first. Actually, it’s quite impressive— how the buffer period between the initial moment and her realization stretches so long. She’s left behind, watching as he ducks out of the alley and rejoins civilization. A civilization who had let him disappear and when he comes back is none the wiser as to his whereabouts. That moment is the first shock: like the lightning strike in a storm, cracking down on _la Tour Eiffel_ and illuminating the night sky. 

The moments after are inexplicable, really. 

Their knuckles had brushed only mere seconds before his ring sounded its warning; the piercing beep, the loss of a toe bean, and he’s left with only one more. But he’s _him_ , he’s never sounded worried about this before, so he bids her _adieu_ with a blown kiss on two fingers. She doesn’t have time to stick around and assuage the public’s fears (she only has two polka dots left of her own), but she does her best to sum it up— _the akuma has been cured, the damage has been reversed, Paris’ loved heroes will always be here for the people_. Her earrings chime in just like his ring did as she’s reassuring the victim that it’s _not_ her fault and as soon as she can escape (without seeming _too_ much like she’s trying to run away, which she totally is), she takes the chance. She only just lands on a nearby fire escape when her transformation drops. 

It seems impossible that he doesn’t see the glow of her transformation above his head. She sees him almost immediately. 

His very familiar blond locks crouched in the alley below, his hand raised to support a small black object in his palm. She ducks down behind the wrought iron bars (like it would conceal her if he looked approximately 80 degrees up) just in time to realize— the small black object is talking back to him. 

He calls it Plagg. It looks awfully similar to her own red and black spotted object, the one currently flitting into her signature pink purse. Her Tikki. 

And, really, she’s trapped there until he leaves, holding his jacket open for Plagg to tuck himself away and emerging into the world as if he were an average Parisian. Which he’s not, because his face is plastered in every boutique modelling the newest seasonal fashions. Or the latest cologne. But if he _wasn’t_ so exceptional in his day-to-day life, he— her partner, her hero, her _chaton—_ could have succeeded in blending into the world so seamlessly. 

She wonders if this is what being hit over the head with a bat is like, before remembering that _oh, disgruntled American baseball player was last week’s akuma_ , and deciding that yes— yes, it is. 

Her world vaguely acknowledges Tikki floating by her cheek holding a broken off piece of chocolate chip cookie, saying her name in her high-pitched voice, and she just kind of... 

Now, see, this is where it gets strange. 

“We’ve got to get home or I’ll never finish my Physics homework,” is all she says, even though her eyes are slightly glazed over and her tone is uncharacteristically calm. Tikki murmurs an agreement and tucks herself away as Marinette stands to descend the fire escape. 

She gets her Physics, Literature Studies, and Maths homework done before dinner that night, and half of the History homework that’s due next week, and never says a word to Tikki about the fact that Adrien is her _chaton._ Doesn’t even acknowledge it. It’s admittedly quite concerning to the kwami, but she decides that Marinette’s probably in shock, and today is Thursday, so she’ll only have to see Adrien one more day before she has the whole weekend to deal with it. It can’t be _that_ bad, at least not any stranger than Marinette tends to act around him, so... one day. She’ll give Marinette one day to freak out and then Tikki will say something. Besides, they won’t have much time to talk before class, because Marinette will probably be late anyway... 

Except she isn’t. 

It’s like the realization of Chat Noir’s identity has reset Marinette’s biological clock because she wakes up independently of her alarm an hour before first bell, giving her more than enough time to get ready and walk the few short blocks. She gets there before Adrien, before Nino, before Chloé, before even _Alya_ , and sits down on the steps out front of the school munching on a freshly-made chocolate croissant. She makes idle chat with Tikki— the school play sounds interesting, she needs to start staying awake in Madame Bustier’s class more because she’s _really_ exasperating the professor, Monsieur Damocles makes a rather impressive impression of a doormat whenever Chloé gets upset— until Alya arrives, but not once does she mention a certain blond-haired boy. 

Alya is understandably shocked when she lays eyes upon her best friend sitting on the steps before first bell, but she joins and accepts the flimsy excuse that Marinette gives her. Some kitchen instruments fell this morning and woke her up and she couldn’t go back to sleep. 

But she is absolutely befuddled when Adrien arrives and Marinette doesn’t stumble over a _single word—_ “ _Bonjour_ , Adrien! Ready for the Physics test?” and doesn’t even trip on a step when they go inside together. Adrien, on his part, is gobsmacked, but pleased. 

So you see, everything has just been going so well for Marinette following this revelation that of course, there’s a shockwave coming. The clap of thunder that follows the lightning strike seconds later and reminds you of what lightning really is; a display of power, not just pretty lights. The clap of thunder comes in Maths class. 

He sits in front of her, beside Nino, who sits in front of Alya, beside her. The arrangement works for them, until Alya asks Nino a question, who can’t answer, and Adrien says the _words_. 

“Cat got your tongue?” 

He’s clearly teasing Nino, it’s not a pun since he’s not currently Chat Noir, and his attention _isn’t even on Marinette_ , but she feels the heat rush to her face and lets out this— ugh— _high-pitched giggle_. It borders on hysterical. She hears it like it’s not coming from her own body, but it is, and she’s horrified. What makes it worse is she doesn’t know what else to do other than bury her face in her hands, so she can’t even try to play it off because she’s clearly embarrassed by the sound that just came out of her mouth. It’s awful.

“It’s nothing— really— it’s just,” she feels the looming disaster but her mouth won’t _stop_ , “I have a stray cat hanging around, I think I planted some catnip by accident. So. Cats, you know.” 

Alya and Nino buy it, even if they both clearly think it’s weird. She has no idea if Adrien does, because she is _very determinedly_ not looking at him, so _yay!_ She’s back to Square One in the Crushing-On-Adrien department, after all the progress she made in the last two hours. It’s fine though, because lunch is coming up soon and she can escape to her room to acknowledge theclear state of shock she just functioned under for the last twelve hours and uh— 

Probably tear down all of the pictures of Adrien that she has on her wall and shred the timetable of his she has hanging from her ceiling and _change her desktop wallpaper goddamn it_ because now it’s occurring to her that Chat Noir has been in her room. Adrien has been in her room. _Untouched_. It’s not like the time he came over to play video games, or the times he’s come to study, because she knew he was coming and she made arrangements to hide the pictures. But Chat Noir. She didn’t know Chat Noir was the _enemy_. He’s collected _intel_ on her. 

“What kind of cat, Marinette?” She’s going to scream— his bright, friendly, curious tone cuts into her Spiral of Shook ™️ and brings her back to reality. There’s something in his face, his bright green eyes, that she can’t read and it almost intimidates her but she is _Ladybug_ and in the immortal words of Edna Mode she will pull herself together. 

“Uh, you know— black cat.” But she really, really wasn’t planning on being that transparent about it, because guess who _has_ been showing up to her balcony lately? A certain black cat! This is well and truly getting worse and worse. “But there are a couple of tabbies and siamese cats that hang around sometimes.” What a save. 

“I bet the black cat’s your favourite. You tend to stick up for the little guys.” He’s fucking smirking. That Chat Noir smirk. Either he knows, or he _knows_. How has she made such a mess of this? 

Her eyes narrow, lips pulling into a suspicious pout. “How do you know the black cat’s the little guy? He’s pretty big.” You know, relative to her own size— she realizes how that could sound if he does know what she’s talking about, and feels her face flush once again, but doesn’t follow it up. She’s accepted that she’s holding a spade and digging herself a plot six feet deep. That’s okay. It’s fine. 

What’s not fine is that... stupid gleam in his eyes, the Chat Noir gleam (really, how did she ever miss this). “You know, the ones who are down on their luck.” 

She can’t take this anymore. She’s vaguely aware of Alya and Nino watching their back and forth like it’s a tennis game and she’s acutely aware that she’s going to be subjected to the Reporter’s Special later, but. 

_Saved by the bell!_

She gathers her belongings and shoves them into her school bag, ready to escape. “Well, I’m gonna go! My parents asked me to help out in the _patisserie_ , so— see you after lunch!” To anyone watching, it would truly seem like a miracle that she didn’t trip over her own two feet on the way out the door. 

* * *

“Tikki,” Marinette flops onto her bed, pulling the comforter over her head and curling up into a ball on her side. She’s... freaking out, yes, but it’s the kind of freak out that you have when you don’t know what exactly you’re freaking out about. The kind that’s like _I don’t know what’s wrong but I know it’s something!_ but she knows what’s wrong and it’s just like, _everything_. “Tikki, you experienced that too, right? I’m not just having a fever dream after getting my behind kicked by an akuma?”  

Would you like some cheese with that whine, Marinette? _Yuck!_ She’s Ladybug! She shouldn’t be getting so worked up over some good-natured— not flirting, _banter_. She just feels so overwhelmed by it all. 

Tikki floats over to perch herself on a fold of comforter in the vague direction of her face and sighs. “Oh, Marinette... it’s not so bad! You didn’t stutter!” Ever the optimist, trying to find something good out of it. “Besides, Adrien seemed to enjoy the conversation, even if he didn’t know exactly what it was about.” 

Somehow, Marinette feels like he knew _exactly_ what they were talking about. 

“Why did I say it was a black cat? That was what started it all! If I had just said it was a calico or literally anything else it would have been fine. And now he probably knows that I know and even if he doesn’t _know_ know he still might know? What happens then! If he knows that I’m Ladybug, it’s over! And if he doesn’t then what happens if he decides to pop by after patrol and finds that I’m not here because I’m out as Ladybug!” 

Tikki is silent for a suspiciously long time before her voice pipes up, soft and apprehensive. 

“You know... Plagg and I didn’t mean for you to keep your identities a secret _forever_...” Marinette lifts her head up to look at her kwami, but only ends up with a slight glimpse through a gap in the comforter. “In the beginning, it was important to keep it a secret because you didn’t know each other. But you’ve been partners for a long time, Marinette, if you feel like you can trust him with your identity, then you can tell him.” 

She actually does scream this time, right into a pillow. 

“Are you telling me that it was never actually a _rule_ that we had to keep our identities a secret? Just, like— a _guideline?_ ” Don’t get her wrong— she still thinks there’s so much merit to not sharing this secret with each other, but there’s also so much merit to spilling the beans. If she felt like emerging from her comforter cocoon she might make a pros and cons list, honestly. 

Tikki rests a small hand (paw? nub) on Marinette’s head. “It’s going to be okay, Marinette. Trust yourself like I trust you. I know you will make the best decision for you.” 

That’s not really saying much, because Marinette’s not in the frame of mind to put together a well-thought-out list of options and drawbacks so privately, she thinks whatever’s best for her directly translates into whatever she does in the spur of the moment next. And really, she doesn’t even have all the information that she needs to make an informed decision anyway— she can’t just go up to Adrien and start making Lady Luck jokes like he’s in on them if he doesn’t _know_ , but only knows. All she really has to offer Tikki is a groan into the comforter and a narrowing of her eyes that doesn’t quite have the heat behind them when she whispers, “ _saboteuse_.” 

* * *

Going back to school after the lunch break ends is about the most nerve-wracking thing that Marinette has ever done, second only to the first she transformed and ended up tangled in her yo-yo string. After that, being Ladybug became easier, even as the akumas grew more difficult. But Marinette’s never successfully expressed her feelings to a crush of this magnitude before, let alone have to tell him that she knows about his leather-clad alter-ego, which slightly outranks her feelings in terms of critical scale. She feels like this secret is about to explode in her chest with every step that she takes closer to Collège Françoise Dupont. 

Her Physics test is not going to go well, she can feel it.  

Adrien’s there when she gets to class, standing outside the room and chatting with some other students who are not Nino and Alya and are currently faceless due to her own nerves. But she is _absolutely fucking determined_ not to screw this up because she’s already been a nut once today and she wants to be the composed girl she was this morning, at least for this. 

She kind of just… wordlessly joins the group outside the classroom and waits for the conversation to end, and it’s going kind of well— she hasn’t laughed inappropriately or made any kind of weird remarks yet, so her spirits are lifting. Of course, Adrien’s attention isn’t fully on her, so she should have expected to freeze up the second that the other two students leave to their class and she’s the only one standing there. 

“Hey, Marinette— how was the _patisserie?_ ” His bright green eyes trained only on her make her brain go fuzzy and she begins to see Chat’s green scleras superimposed on Adrien’s. 

It’s a tragedy, really, how she handles this. It’s like an out-of-body experience.

Her mouth is dry and she can’t swallow her nerves, so she just stands there stammering nonsense until she says it. The fatal words, just as final bell rings. 

“— _My kwami is cuter than yours_ ,” and she brushes past him, ducking her head to avoid her blush getting the best of her and sliding into her seat in the classroom to immediately lay her forehead on the desk. She’s vaguely aware of him entering the classroom about two minutes later and surreptitiously trying to get her attention until he gives up and just texts her under the desk. 

❤️ _Adrien_ ❤️  
_[13:08] Talk after school?_

And she’s extremely aware of his leg bouncing underneath his desk until she texts back a quick affirmative, almost like he was nervous for her answer. The thought calms her racing heart a few paces.

❤️ _Adrien_ ❤️  
_[13:10] Can’t wait, buginette._ ヽ _(•‿•)_ ノ

**Author's Note:**

> Marinette's ultimate confession is a tribute to Love Juseyo by Mintacia because it was just so funny I couldn't stop thinking about it. Highly recommend, if you haven't read it yet. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.


End file.
